“I’ll trade you the spicy chicken and rice for your beef stromboli,” Evan said, digging through the packets in his MRE. It was lunchtime, and the squad was sitting in the rubble of a ruined warehouse back at the Bug anchor, the crumbling pieces of resin making for more comfortable seats than the muddy ground. Their IFV was nearby, the engine turned off, the crew hanging out in the open troop bay as they ate.
“What, I’m supposed to want the spicy food because I’m Mexican?” Hernandez replied in mock outrage. “Fuck you. Doesn’t even have any limes.”
“I’ve seen you eat, motherfucker,” Evan shot back. “If you were a Borealan, you’d be carrying around vials of hot sauce. Do you want the spicy chicken or not?”
“Of course I want the spicy chicken,” Hernandez chuckled, snatching it out of his hand. “What else you got in there?”
“Jalapeno cheese spread,” he replied, tossing the packet into his friend’s lap. “You can have that, too. The hell are they thinking with this menu?”
“You can have my applesauce, you fuckin’ baby.”
They were distracted as another lander roared overhead, carrying a piece of prefab barrier for the wall that was being constructed around the area, the great slab of reinforced polymer hanging from its belly on chains. It seemed that the higher-ups had decided to use the anchor site as a temporary FOB. They’d be putting down guard towers and barracks soon, turning the place into a fortified base from which the battalion could launch raids on the surrounding Bug tunnels. Once that was done, they’d probably pick up and move on to the next site, wherever that might be.
Evan raised his canteen to his lips, tilting his head back to take a drink. As he peered up at the auroras that trailed across the sky, he spotted another incoming ship. His heart stopped in his chest as he saw the insectoid legs that were folded beneath its belly, his hand reaching for the rifle that was leaning against a mound of soil beside him.
He relaxed a little when he noticed the UN-blue livery on the onyx-black armor plating that covered its back like the shell of a lobster, the organic craft starting to bank as it made its way closer.
“It’s Jarilan,” Hernandez explained, sensing the tension in him. “Looks like it’s comin’ in for a landin’. They told us we’d have to work alongside critters in the briefin’ back on the carrier, right?”
“Yeah, I remember,” Evan replied as he watched the vessel suspiciously. Those insect-like, jointed legs extended as it neared the ground, serving as landing gear. It looked like a giant shrimp, with a distinct head that was covered in arrays of tiny, black eyes that shone in the sun. A cluster of thin antennae projected out before it like the comms package on a survey ship, and he noted that it had a pair of plasma weapons slung beneath its prow. Its abdomen was bulkier, swollen, the angular plating that protected its back tapering into off-green flesh as it neared its underside. The entire craft was maybe a little larger than a UNN dropship. It used the rows of thrusters that ran along its flanks to steady itself as it touched down not far away from where they were sitting. Each one of them moved independently, attached by muscle rather than machinery, the emerald jets of methane flame gradually fading.
The rear of the vessel began to open up, the black plating splitting apart like the wings of a beetle preparing to take flight, exposing the tendons beneath it. From below, a far more mechanical ramp descended, Evan unable to see inside from where he was sitting.
A procession of Bugs came jogging out, far more than looked like they should be able to fit in a craft of that size. Their shells were all painted in matching camouflage, and they were wielding XMRs, their faces obscured behind what almost looked like motorcycle helmets. Each of them had a ruff of fluffy, white fur around their necks, the same fluff present on their wrists. Just like the Marines, they were wearing rigs and backpacks. Around their waists was a kind of segmented skirt made from hanging plates of chitin that reached down to their knees, bringing to mind images of Roman legionaries.
The Battalion commander walked out to meet them, talking with one of them for a couple of minutes as the rest formed a neat line behind it like they were on parade. Evan counted twenty-four of them. When they were done talking, they split into groups of three, all heading off in different directions. Hernandez gave him a nudge when he saw that a trio of Bugs were headed their way.
They stopped beside the IFV, the squad of confused Marines staring back at them. The lead Bug passed its XMR to its lower pair of arms, then reached up to remove its helmet with the upper. Rather than slide it off as a human would, it popped off a faceplate that housed the visor, then slid the rest of the helmet off the back of its head. It looked to Evan like the horn would get in the way otherwise.
Its face was oddly familiar, with a pair of large, expressive eyes that didn’t look like they belonged on an insect at all. There was no nose, and its mouth was made up of an arrangement of plates, closely mimicking the appearance of a human. The effect made it look a little like a china doll that had been broken, then glued back together again. He was surprised to see a pair of full, fleshy lips, pink in color. As the creature began to speak, those plates shifted around, giving it the ability to emote.
“Jarilan auxiliaries, reporting for duty,” it announced in a distinctly feminine voice. Unlike the Borealans and the Valbarans, it spoke perfect English with no accent that he could discern. If he’d been listening to it over the radio, he would have mistaken it for a human.
She – and it was clearly a female – turned to the sergeant as he set down the packet of pork and beans that he had been eating, saluting him as he approached.
“You’re the Jarilans that were assigned to the company,” he mused, looking them up and down.
“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Three per IFV, Battalion-wide. We’re here to help you root out the Bugs.”
Evan and Hernandez exchanged a glance. Root out the Bugs? They were Bugs…
“Very good,” the sergeant replied. “I suppose you’re looking for Echo-fourteen? You’ll be rolling with my squad,” he added, gesturing to Evan and the rest of the Marines who were sitting nearby. “That’s our Puma over there. Should be room for you to stand inside, but you may have to ride on the hull. Get settled in.”
She responded with another prim salute, like a rookie straight out of boot camp. As the sergeant returned to his seat and resumed his meal, the three Bugs turned their eyes on the Marines. Evan made the mistake of making eye contact with their leader, who took that as an invitation, making a beeline for him.
“Hey,” she said with a wave of her hand, her mannerisms remarkably human. “My name’s Jade,” she added, gesturing to an armband that she was wearing. It had a UNN logo, along with velcro patches with her name and rank. “Looks like we’re going to be working together from now on.”
“Evan,” he replied, trying to be polite.
“Bugs have names?” Hernandez asked, Evan struggling not to audibly sigh.
“Sure we do,” she replied cheerfully, as though she had heard the same question before. “My Dad named me. I’m usually green,” she added, rapping a fist against her angular chest piece. “They painted us red before we dropped so we wouldn’t stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Bugs have Da-”
Evan cleared his throat loudly before Hernandez could finish his thought.
“They told us we’d be working with Bugs back on the carrier,” he began. “You guys are here to sniff out tunnel entrances, right?”
“That, and to lend a helping hand or four where we can,” she replied as her face plates arranged into an uncanny smile. “We prefer Jarilan to Bug, by the way. Jarry is fine too. Our species didn’t originate in the Betelgeuse system, and we’re only very distantly related to the other hives. We actually have as much human DNA as Betelgeusian.”
“How did that come about?” Hernandez asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Mom was a Queen, Dad was a Marine,” she replied proudly. “Got my rifle arm from him, and the other three from her.” She turned her eyes to the MRE that Evan was eating, nodding to it. “Smells good. Beef, right?”
“Yeah,” he replied, suppressing the impulse to ask her how she could smell anything without a nose. “You, uh…want some?”
“Nah, thanks,” she replied with a shake of her head. “We only need our honey ration to survive. Looks like your buddy shares our tastes.”
Hernandez looked up at her, halfway through squeezing a tube of amber fluid with the consistency of syrup onto a cracker.
“That stuff’s a Jarilan export,” she explained. “Our Repletes make it. Eat up – Jarry Juice is good for you.”
Hernandez turned his eyes back to his cracker, his disappointment palpable. Jade made her way closer, apparently deciding that she had found her new friends, taking a seat beside Evan on a piece of rubble. She crossed her long legs, Evan glancing down at them. They were digitigrade, with pink flesh visible between the joints, her ankles decorated with a ring of white fluff. He noted that her inner thighs weren’t armored, sporting more of that pink meat, reflecting the light like a waxed car. It didn’t look like skin, more like smooth plastic. At first glance, she looked like the Drones that he had spent his career fighting, but she was indeed more humanoid upon closer inspection. Her silhouette was closer to that of a human woman, with wide hips that tapered into a narrow waist. Unlike the gaunt insectoids, she was fuller, like a Bug that had been sculpted into the shape of a person with deliberate intent.
“So, how do those work?” he asked as he pointed to her antennae. They were long and feathery, reminding him of a moth, the tiny hairs that coated them blowing in the breeze. A couple were standing erect, while two more fell down the back of her head to give the appearance of braids.
“My antennae?” she asked, reaching up to curl her finger around one of them. “They’re basically what we use as a nose. They’re covered in chemo-receptors that can detect odors in the air. They’re also sensitive to humidity and sound waves, to an extent.”
“What kind of training do you guys do?” he continued, just making conversation to avoid an awkward silence. “Do you go through boot camp, maybe integration training like the Borealans?”
“I grew up around humans,” she chuckled. “I’ve probably spent more time with your kind than mine, if you can even make that distinction. No integration training needed. We go through a training program on Jarilo that was set up by some ex-Marines, including my Dad. He was a scout sniper when he was in the UNN. Needless to say, we have to meet the Navy’s standards to qualify as auxiliaries, but I don’t know if there’s ever been a Jarilan that couldn’t cut it. Bred for war and all that.”
“You’ve lived around humans?” he asked, the revelation surprising him. “I knew there were human colonists on Jarilo, but I figured…I dunno, that you’d live apart.”
“Everyone lives together on Jarilo,” she explained. “It’s a young colony, people can’t get by without pulling their weight. If you need someone to repair a generator or help you put up a fence, you aren’t going to care how many limbs they have.”
“I guess that makes sense,” he replied over another mouthful of his meal. He looked over to see what the other two Jarilans were doing, seeing that one of them was leaning against the hull of the IFV, chatting with a couple of Marines. Another was standing on the ramp, talking with the crew who were sat inside.
“Man,” Hernandez suddenly said, stretching his arms above his head conspicuously. “I gotta go drain the worm. You wanna come watch my back and make sure no roaches get the drop on me, Evan?”
“Do I want to watch you piss?” Evan replied. “No.”
“Come on,” he hissed, nodding in the direction of a nearby ruin.
“Fine, fine,” Evan conceded. “We’ll be right back,” he added apologetically, the curious Jarilan watching them leave.
He followed Hernandez through the rubble, the pair stopping when they were out of sight of the rest of the squad, putting most of a collapsed warehouse between them and their new allies.
“What do you make of this?” Hernandez asked.
“Are you about to show me a tumor?”
“No, dickhead, the critters. Think we can trust ‘em?”
“I don’t see why not,” Evan replied with a shrug. “It’s not like they can go turncoat. The hives fight each other just as much as they fight us. They won’t show the Jarries any mercy just because they have the same number of arms. Hell, it might piss them off even more, like when you pet a friend’s cat and yours can smell it on you.”
“Just doesn’t sit right with me,” Hernandez grumbled. “It’s one thing when they’re on another ship, but we’re gonna be bunkin’ with the fuckers now. Fightin’ with ‘em, eatin’ with ‘em, sharin’ a latrine.”
“Listen, I’m not any happier about this than you are,” Evan said. “What are we supposed to do about it, though? Complain to the L.T? I’m sure he’d appreciate that. Best thing we can do is knuckle down and try not to shoot them by accident when the fighting starts.”
“Fuck, you think they would court-martial us for accidentally wastin’ a Jarilan?”
“They’re Coalition troops,” Evan replied. “Of course they would. Anyway, maybe they’ll be useful,” he added with a shrug. “We sure as hell haven’t been able to root out any Bugs on our own so far. Not unless you count a bunch of clueless farmers.”
“Man, I knew this deployment was gonna suck,” Hernandez grumbled. “We had too good of a time on Valbara, that’s the problem. Now we gotta pay for it. It’s karma, dude, I’m tellin’ you.”
“Let’s get back before the Sarge has to come looking for us,” Evan said, Hernandez following after him as he made his way back between the ruined warehouses. They returned to their seats, Jade greeting them with a wave of one of her upper hands. It was so odd how she moved both pairs independently, the lower clasped neatly in her lap.
Before they had time to sit down and resume their meals, the sergeant came walking over, his helmet in hand.
“New orders just came in,” he announced. “Echo company is going on a Bug hunt. Get your shit together, we roll out in fifteen.”
The Jarilans leapt to attention, the Marines giving them confused looks as they finished off their MREs. This must be their first deployment, because the normal demeanor for someone serving in a mechanized company was some combination of tired and pissed off.
Evan wolfed down the rest of his beef stromboli, then pocketed an MRE chocolate bar, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before putting on his helmet. As the HUD turned on, he noted that the Jarilans were tagged on the IFF system, little icons with their names hovering over their heads. Perhaps they had IFF chips in their armbands or something. He didn’t actually know how much of their armor was part of their body and how much of it was synthetic. It was all painted with red camo, with no difference in texture. They could be completely nude for all he knew.
The sergeant corralled them into the IFV, Evan strapping himself in, wondering where the Jarilans were going to sit. Once all of the Marines were loaded, the three aliens came up the ramp. There were no seats left for them, so they stood in the aisle between the two benches, gripping the handholds in the ceiling. The ramp closed behind them, the engine rumbling to life as the vehicle began to drive off.
***
They drove along one of the old Valbaran roads for maybe an hour, the cracked, overgrown asphalt barely supporting the seventy-ton Kodiaks. Echo company was comprised of twelve main battle tanks and eight of the Puma IFVs, with about a hundred Marines between them. Along with the crews and the twenty-four Jarilan auxiliaries, there were another eighty or so men. The convoy was forced to travel single-file along the abandoned highways, led by one of Golf company’s scout vehicles, which was using its arrays of sensors to pick up Bug activity. As well as a small squadron of surveillance drones, it was equipped with a ground-penetrating radar that could pick up anomalous underground structures.
The convoy finally ground to a halt, and this time, it wasn’t to drag a fallen tree out of their path. The sergeant ordered them out of the IFV, the Jarilans hurrying down the ramp before the Marines, spreading out to guard the vehicle as they followed their training to the letter. They knew their stuff, but how much practical experience did they have?
As he stepped out onto the road, Evan saw more of the Jarilans, a trio of them attached to each squad. If nothing else, the bump in numbers was appreciated. Echo-fourteen was right in the middle of the convoy, the MBTs leading the way, the troop carriers trailing out of view around the bend behind them. His helmet’s software filtered out the rumbling of their engines, but he could still feel the ground shaking beneath his boots.
“The Timberwolf has picked up a radar signature that looks like a tunnel network,” the sergeant began, stepping forward. “It’s off the road to the South. They couldn’t pinpoint the entrance, so the company’s gonna fan out and search on foot. Here’s where our new friends come in,” he added, gesturing in Jade’s direction. The Jarilans had kept their helmets off, presumably to make better use of their antennae, the feathery appendages bobbing in the air as she nodded her head. “Lead the way.”
The various squads all set off in different directions, Evan’s team following the three Bugs into the trees, leaving the safety of the convoy behind them. The red leaves of the shrubs that dominated the forest floor rustled as they waded through them, and Evan was struck once again by the prevalence of mushrooms on this moon. They were everywhere, growing from every tree, sprouting on every fallen log. They rose up three or four meters in fungal spires in places, forming their own clusters, like a forest within a forest.
Behind them, the vehicles slowly faded from view, hidden by the densely packed trees. Evan glanced up, relieved to see one of the scout drones circling high overhead. If there were any enemies in the area, it would probably pick them up and tag them before they came into visual range.
As they made their way forward, they encountered a strange pillar. It was clearly artificial, covered in some kind of white paint that had chipped away in places, exposing the rusted metal beneath. The forest had colonized the structure, making it almost indistinguishable from the surrounding trees. Clusters of mushrooms sprouted at its base, and red vines carpeted its surface as they climbed towards the canopy above. As Evan glanced to his left and right, he was able to spot more of them, a row of the white pillars seeming to run parallel to the road. They were connected by a rail high above his head, the dense canopy that had grown around it making it almost invisible from any real distance.
“Looks like a rail line,” Hernandez said, stopping at his side to peer up at it. “Maglev, maybe, like the ones we rode back on Valbara.”
“It was just left here,” Evan muttered. “The Bugs didn’t strip it for materials or anything. It’s easy to forget that people lived here once. There were schools, hospitals, railways…”
“Fuckin’ creepy, man,” Hernandez added.
A few of the other Marines paused to look at it on their way past, but they didn’t have much time for sightseeing.
“Anything?” the sergeant asked, his voice coming through his helmet speakers.
“Nothing so far,” one of the Jarilans replied, her antennae twitching as she stalked through the bushes. “They won’t have come near the roads – no reason to when they have tunnels for transport.”
“Tunnels are better than roads?” Hernandez asked skeptically.
“You’d be surprised how fast Bugs can move through a tunnel system,” she added.
They hiked through the forest for another couple of hundred meters, then Jade raised a fist, the Marines taking a knee with their XMRs ready as they peered through the trees.
“Got a scent,” she said, bracing her rifle against her shoulder. As she held it with her upper arms, she gestured to her two companions with the lower, waving them forward. The three of them spread out, sniffing for traces of pheromones in the air like bloodhounds hunting down a fugitive. They seemed to grow more confident as they went, honing in on a distinct trail, the squad keeping watch as they followed behind them.
“There were Bugs here for sure,” Jade said, pausing by a tree to brush her antennae against its bark. “Recently. These scents aren’t more than forty-eight hours old.”
“Keep your eyes open,” the sergeant ordered. “If we locate a hive entrance, we’re gonna have to secure it until a demo team can arrive to seal it up.”
“Disturbed soil,” another of the Jarilans said, waving over her companions. Jade crouched beside her, brushing the dirt with her fingertips.
“Yep, this is fresh. They’ve been doing earthworks somewhere nearby.”
“Alright, split into three groups and search the area,” the sergeant said. “Keep comms clear until you find something.”
Evan, Hernandez, and Jade split off with a fourth Marine named Peterson, heading East as Jade followed her sensitive antennae. She kept her eyes to the ground, searching for any more telltale signs of disturbed soil. They all knew what hive entrances looked like. They usually took the form of a giant mound of earth, kind of like a molehill, with a hole carved out of one of its slopes large enough to let the Bugs in and out. Sometimes, they were sealed with doors or other fortifications, but a small entrance like this was probably undefended.
“Got it,” Jade finally said, pointing the barrel of her rifle into the trees. “That way.”
“What do you even smell?” Evan asked as he walked along beside her. “What’s it like?”
“Pheromones are messages coded into chemical signals,” she explained, keeping her eyes focused on the woods ahead. “You can read them if you have the right sensory organs. Imagine a strong smell, like a lemon or a flower. Now, imagine that the smell conveys some special meaning to you. That citrus scent might be associated with food. Well, now you just follow the smell of lemon to find the chow hall. Scale that up into more complex concepts, and you’ll get some idea of how it works.”
“So, what does the trail you’re following now smell like?”
“It’s kind of like…” She paused for a moment to consider. “When you talk to someone who doesn’t speak your language, but you can still understand their tone and get some idea of what they mean. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so,” he replied.
“I can’t tell where this tunnel leads, but I know it’s a tunnel, and that Bugs came through here recently. Drones and Workers, it smells like.”
“Drones?” Hernandez repeated, gripping his rifle a little tighter.
They came upon a clearing, quickly taking cover behind the nearby trees as they spotted the mound of soil in the distance. It was maybe three meters tall, made from earth that had been covered in the same hard, transparent resin as the warehouses.
“Looks clear,” Evan said, scanning the area with his optics. “No heat signatures.”
They stepped out into the open, advancing cautiously, their weapons trained on the mound. As they neared, they noted that something was wrong, Peterson speaking up first.
“The hell?” he muttered, taking a few steps closer to examine the doorway. “It’s collapsed.”
“Collapsed?” Hernandez asked, joining him beside the pile of dirt.
“Jade?” Evan asked, waiting for her to clarify.
“These are recent earthworks,” she explained, leaning closer to examine the soil. “It’s been purposely sealed. See this hard, clear coating? This is the resin excreted by Workers, used in construction.”
“This is fucking weird,” Evan muttered, reaching up to tap the touch panel on the side of his helmet. He switched to the squad channel, his radio crackling for a moment. “Sarge? We’ve found the tunnel entrance, but it looks like the critters have done our job for us. Fucking thing’s already sealed up. Yeah, I dunno. We’ll secure the area.”
It didn’t take long for the rest of the squad to meet up, the sergeant walking around the mound as he examined it, seeming just as confused as everyone else.
“Can they unseal it?” he asked, Jade shrugging her shoulders.
“It’s not impossible, but sealing up an entrance like this usually means that they don’t intend to use it anymore. I’d wager the actual tunnel has been collapsed for good measure, too.”
“So, they abandon their own tether ports, then they seal up their own tunnels,” another of the Marines muttered. “I don’t get the play.”
“These Bugs have never met any other species besides Betelgeusians and Valbarans,” Jade explained. “They might assume that we’d want to use their tunnels to get around and are denying us that resource by sealing them up.”
“Are they gonna fight us or not?” another added, a murmur of agreement spreading through their ranks.
“I’ll call it in, but there’s not much else we can do,” the sergeant announced. “Come on, let’s get back to the convoy.”
They turned in the direction of the road, Evan jogging a little to catch up with Jade as they began to walk back through the forest.
“What do you make of this?” he asked, stepping over a cluster of mushrooms.
“I don’t know any more about the Bugs on this moon than you do,” she replied.
“I know, I know, Jarilans aren’t Betelgeusians. You told me that already. You must know more about Bugs in general, though. You’re related to them.”
“It’s not like them to retreat,” she sighed, glancing around at the trees warily. “Territory is everything to a hive – it’s their source of food, their living space, their very life. Evolution has honed them over untold eons to capture and defend stellar bodies. The only reason I can think of that they might voluntarily let an enemy force enter their territory is…”
“What?” Evan pressed, the Jarilan turning to give him a worried glance.
“A controlled burn,” she replied. “A form of habitat management that seems illogical on its face, but is a precise and measured response to a problem. Who knows when they might strike the first match.”
They soon arrived back at the convoy, the sergeant ordering them back into the IFV.
“Command says we keep looking for tunnels,” he said, climbing up the troop ramp behind them. “You know the drill. We keep going until every one of those fuckers is mapped out.”
***
Evan watched the trees slide past beyond the IFV’s external cameras, an endless procession of reds, oranges, and browns. Every now and then, he caught a scant glimpse of the support pillars for the maglev line that mirrored the road’s path through the forest, vines and creepers masking the faded white of their paint.
The troop carrier suddenly ground to halt, the Jarilans having to grip their handholds tightly to save from slamming into each other as the vehicle hit its brakes. Evan knocked into Hernandez, who was sitting beside him, his straps digging into his chest as they saved him from falling out of his seat.
“The fuck was that?” he heard someone ask, his eyes turning back to the external camera feed. They were on a long stretch of road, cracked and overgrown, its slight curve allowing him to see the lead vehicle far ahead. The asphalt beneath it had collapsed, throwing up a cloud of dust, plunging the seventy-ton tank into a pothole deep enough to partially bury it. It blocked the way completely, the trees to either side of the Valbaran highway forming a dense wall that boxed them in.
“Goddamn it,” the sergeant growled, one finger on the side of his helmet. “The road has given out. What the fuck did the L.T expect, using highways that haven’t been maintained in thirty years? It’s a disaster waiting to happen.”
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“What do we do?” Hernandez asked.
“Just sit tight,” the sergeant replied, settling back into his seat. “It’s probably going to take a recovery lander to lift that thing out of there. Nothing we can do but sit around until then.”
One of the Marines reached under his chair for his pack, fishing inside for an MRE. He tore open the packet, then raised his visor, starting to rummage through the contents.
“If anyone needs to take a piss, now is probably a good time,” the sergeant announced. He signaled for the crew to open the ramp, a few of the Marines rising from their seats, stretching their legs. Hernandez nudged Evan, and he followed him down the ramp, the Jarilans leading the way so as not to block the exit.
As he stepped out into the sunlight, Evan saw that many of the other IFVs were unloading, the Marines milling about nearby. A few of the tank commanders had opened their cupolas and were using their height to get a better look at the blockage ahead. Evan turned to glance at the lead Kodiak, the dust starting to clear. Its three-man crew had climbed out and were standing around the crater, helplessly peering down at their disabled vehicle.
“They’re not gettin’ that fucker out of there any time soon,” Hernandez chuckled, popping open his visor. He pulled an e-cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with a button press before raising it to his lips.
“No shit,” Evan replied, leaning against the hull of their IFV. “The Sarge is right – they’ll need to call in a lander to airlift it out. Just our luck that we’d come across a Kodiak-sized pothole.”
“Told you, man,” Hernandez added as he took a long drag from his cigarette. “It’s karma.”
“I’m gonna go take a whizz,” Evan sighed, setting off for the trees nearby. He stepped off the broken edge of the road, walking maybe twenty paces through the undergrowth. He found a suitable tree, keeping the convoy in view, reaching down to raise the segmented crotch armor on his suit. As he moistened the bark, he felt a tremor shake the ground. Cock in hand, he slowly turned his head to the right, where a mound of earth was rising from the ground. It wasn’t more than thirty meters away, bulging up beneath the fallen leaves, displacing some of the nearby trees with an audible creaking sound.
As the loose soil sloughed off the object, Evan made out a spiky, rust-colored carapace covered in tiny bumps and spikes. Its coloration reminded him of a coconut crab, pale, white stripes trailing across its glossy surface. As more of it came into view, he noticed the mechanical components, shining metal catching the sunlight where it was visible beneath the thick chitin. On the near side, the organic shell transitioned into a three-meter gun barrel lined with telltale magnetic rails. The ominous, green glow of plasma canisters mounted towards its rear left no question as to the purpose of the weapon.
Like a crab in sand, it was digging itself out of the ground, eight massive legs churning up the soil like a plow. More of its sloping carapace emerged, its flanks adorned with huge pods that were covered in holes, like the seeds of a lotus plant. It was some kind of organic vehicle, an eight-legged tank, its turret slowly rotating to face the road. Its hull must have been at least six meters long, maybe thirty tons, as large a Bug construct as he had ever seen outside of a spacecraft.
On its prow was a bulging dome made of thick chitin, its edges adorned with what looked like interlocking teeth. As he watched, frozen in terror, it split open into three separate plates reminiscent of a beak. From within, a long, off-blue appendage emerged. Like a snail peeking out of its shell, it snaked through the air, its pallid skin covered in glistening slime that dripped to the forest floor in ropes. It had a pair of bulbous antennae that twitched and waved as it peered about, the thing scouting out its environment with arrays of beady eyes before sliding back inside, the three plates closing over it protectively. Its bulk was still partially buried, like an MBT in a hull-down position.
It hadn’t noticed him – it was too focused on the convoy. Slowly, terrified that any sudden movements might alert it to his presence, he raised a finger to the touch panel on the side of his helmet.
“Sarge,” he whispered, the rapid beating of his heart pounding in his ears. “Contact in the forest. It’s an ambush. Say again, contact-”
The organic tank braced itself, the ground shaking beneath its clawed feet as it spread out its segmented legs. A loud, electrical hum filled the air as green energy crackled down the length of its main gun, arcing between the trio of rails. The canisters mounted on the rear of the turret glowed brighter, then the entire vehicle rocked back, absorbing the recoil as the gun fired. A bright lance of emerald plasma streaked across the forest, igniting the nearby plants as it raced past them, Evan whipping his head around to see it impact one of the IFVs. It melted through its hull like a blowtorch, the sheer kinetic energy of the impact powerful enough to lift the Puma’s wheels off the ground, nearly tipping it over. As it landed back on the road, he saw the slagged hole that had been punched through it, the asphalt beneath it liquefying. There was a secondary explosion as something inside the vehicle ignited, gutting its chassis, black smoke starting to billow from within.
The nearby Marines were already scattering, rushing for the cover of the nearby vehicles, but the Bug tank wasn’t done. It rotated on its legs, aiming the two pods, then leaned back to elevate them slightly. Missiles streaked out of the asymmetrical holes, trailing dark smoke through the canopy, a barrage of maybe ten projectiles arcing towards the road. They erupted into clouds of choking, green gas where they impacted, the wind carrying it along the convoy. One of the missiles bounced off the armor of one of the Pumas, landing on the road nearby, the fleshy canister splitting open to spew noxious chemicals into the air.
Evan heard the sergeant shouting something over the radio, but he could only watch as the tank switched targets. The long barrel – now glowing red with residual heat from the first shot – lined up with another target. It rocked back again as it fired at the next IFV, the vehicle’s protective heat tiles unable to absorb the shock, the resulting transfer of kinetic and thermal energy almost tearing it in half. A Marine was caught in the blast, incinerated in an instant due to nothing more than his proximity.
Down the road, more of the company’s vehicles were burning, Evan feeling the ground shake as another of the organic tanks revealed itself nearby. It dug itself out of the ground maybe sixty meters to his left, sending a tree crashing to the forest floor, its eight legs thundering as it readjusted its position. They had been lying in wait, lurking just beneath the surface. The road hadn’t collapsed – the Bugs had set a trap, and now the entire convoy was ensnared. They could no longer retreat, the black smoke that rose over the forest suggesting that the vehicles at the rear of the formation had already been taken out.
The UNN vehicles were reacting now, the IFVs turning their guns on the forest, the familiar chugging sound of their grenade launchers joining the crack of railguns. Molten tungsten shattered the tree trunks, sending splinters of wood flying through the air like shrapnel, explosions throwing up torrents of earth where the grenades landed. The nearest Kodiak swung its turret around, Evan finding himself staring down its barrel through the trees. He ducked reflexively, a sound like a hammer striking an anvil ringing out as it fired. The Bug tank to Evan’s right erupted like a melon hit by a rifle round, pieces of broken chitin zipping through the air as the massive creature was rolled onto its side by the impact, the shell carving out a six-foot crater in its hull. Evan glimpsed wet meat and twisted metal beneath the shattered chitin, an explosion of green flame rustling the treetops as something inside it ignited, the carcass starting to burn.
Another of the tanks came marching into view from the forest beyond, scuttling along with surprising speed, its spider-like gait filling Evan with instinctual revulsion. It pushed a tall tree out of its path with one of its forelimbs, tearing it out of the ground, exposing its tangled roots. The Bug paused for a moment, then fired, a bolt of burning plasma impacting the Kodiak’s hull just above its tracks. The tiles glowed orange as they dissipated the heat, molten metal following the contours of its armor like a liquid, but it didn’t punch through. Like a crab, the aggressor began to scuttle sideways in an effort to throw off the MBT, but the turret kept pace with it.
Another round from its main gun punched straight through a tree directly ahead of the Bug, vaporizing a meter-long section of its trunk. The branches hadn’t even had time to start falling before the tungsten slug drilled through its target, the thick carapace no match for such a powerful railgun. The mechanical crustacean reeled as one of its rocket pods was violently torn off, poison gas and burning munitions spewing out behind it in a cone. Green ichor jetted from the wound that had been torn along its flank, splattering on the dead leaves, but the thing wasn’t dead. It returned fire, this round slagging the Kodiak’s tracks, obliterating the road beneath it to make it sink into the ground.
Effectively immobilized, yet undeterred, the Kodiak opened up with one of the gun pods mounted on the side of its turret. A hail of tungsten tore through the forest, Evan throwing himself to the ground as splinters of wood bounced off his armor. They punched through the Bug’s shell, peppering it with fist-sized holes, the thing staggering into a nearby tree like a dying animal. A third shot from the main gun finished it off, the snail-like sensory organ flopping limply from its beak like a tongue as it sagged to the ground.
Similar exchanges were happening along the length of the convoy now, the enemy pressing in from all sides, the chatter of XMRs and vehicle-mounted weapons dampened by Evan’s helmet to save him from being deafened.
Evan didn’t know what to do. Should he stay here and keep his head down, avoiding the tungsten and plasma that was zipping above his head, or should he try to make it back to his squad?
He settled on the latter, steeling himself as he began to crawl through the undergrowth on his belly, digging his knees and elbows into the dirt. He could feel the shaking of the Kodiaks and the Bug tanks reverberating through his chest piece as they shook the earth, the sound of panicked orders on his radio drowned out by his own labored breathing. This was just like being in fucking boot again, forced to crawl through mud beneath razor wire and live gunfire. He had thought it was a joke at the time, an unrealistic scenario designed only to terrify recruits.
The surveillance drones were tagging the enemy tanks now, red blips joining the blue icons that formed a disorganized line ahead of him. Why the hell hadn’t they seen the buried vehicles earlier? Surely something so large must put out tremendous heat?
He felt the ground rumble, turning his head to see a red icon approaching from behind him. Not willing to lift his head above the cover of the shrubs, he couldn’t get a visual, but he guessed from the rapid footfalls that it was one of the tanks. Praying that the thing wouldn’t step on him, he kept completely still, catching a glimpse of the eight-legged construct as it scuttled past him. It stopped nearby, the thud-thud-thud of its rocket pods shaking his bones as it peppered the convoy with projectiles. These were explosive, shrapnel tearing through the forest, the sound of the detonations muffled by his helmet. He dared to raise his visor above the leaves now, seeing the rear end of the tank, its rust-red shell blocking his way like a wall. It couldn’t have been more than a few body lengths away from where he was hiding.
It was answered by an IFV, the thirty-mill drilling holes in its carapace, the beast crawling away from Evan to his right as it attempted to dodge. The convoy was only about fifty meters away. He could see Marines taking cover behind one of the deployable walls that had swung out from the hull of their IFV, firing into the forest. They had to know that he was here – they could see him on their HUDs just as he could see them.
The nearby Bug tank was felled by another Kodiak round that punched straight through several trees before impacting it, the sheer friction as it cut through the air igniting the foliage nearby like a flamethrower. It slammed into the Bug’s left flank, topping it onto its side, its segmented legs curling up like a dying spider as it spilled fuel and bodily fluids onto the forest floor.
More tanks were approaching from behind him – he could hear them. How many of the fucking things were there? There was no cover between him and the road save for a few sparse trees, but that dead tank might be just what he needed.
Like a sprinter at the starting line, he rose to his feet, the rifle that was slung over his shoulder clattering against his armor as he began to run. As though the devil himself was on his heels, he raced towards the motionless husk of the tank, praying that his comrades would have the battlefield awareness to avoid shooting straight through him. He skidded to a stop in the dirt, throwing himself behind the dead Bug, slipping a little in the mucous-like fluid that coated the ground nearby.
He unslung his rifle, glad of its comforting weight, putting his dick away with his free hand as he braced the barrel against the bumpy carapace. There must be nearly enough Bug tanks to match the number of UNN vehicles in the convoy, what looked like a whole armored company marching through the trees. As he pulled up the drone’s view on a window on his HUD, he saw the blue icons of Echo company snaking through the forest, surrounded on all sides by a mass of encroaching hostiles. It was a pincer attack – the Bugs were engaging the convoy from both sides along its entire length.
Through his visor, he spotted something else moving through the trees, something the drone hadn’t tagged yet. He saw a figure march into view through the smoke from the raging fires that were erupting all around them, leaving the cover of one of the approaching tanks.
Immediately, he recognized it as a Drone, its five-foot stature and its four arms unmistakable. Something about this one was different, however.
Its carapace was thicker than anything he had seen before, layered, with sharp points and bumps just like the tank. It was colored with autumn camouflage – stripes of red, orange, and brown that helped it blend into its environment. Rather than the two glowing, compound visors that usually adorned Betelgeusian helmets, this one had eyes that were somewhere between a tarantula and night vision goggles. There were eight of them, four on each side of its helmet, all of them pointing in different directions. Its mandibles resembled the jaws of some fossilized monster from prehistory, split into four segments that moved independently of one another, the chitin molded into sharp teeth. The thing looked like it could take a bite right out of him. As if that wasn’t enough, it had two pincers projecting from its cheeks like tusks, though they seemed more decorative than functional. Its horn was short and swept back, terminating in two prongs.
In its hands was some manner of organic rifle that Evan had no way to identify, a mess of metal and resin that was equipped with a sharp bayonet that projected out from beneath the barrel. At first glance, the Bug looked like it had a pair of long antennae coming out of the back of its head. As it turned, however, he saw that they were attached to some kind of organic rucksack that clung to its torso like a limpet. They were long and thin, rising a couple of feet above the thing’s helmet, bobbing as it moved.
The way it moved was even more jarring than its appearance. Bugs fought using wave tactics, leveraging their superior numbers to overwhelm the enemy. Evan had seen them march headlong into machinegun fire, across minefields, relying on handheld shields until they could get into effective range where their close combat skills could be leveraged. They relied on enough of their number reaching the enemy lines to accomplish the task, expending their soldiers like ammunition.
As Evan watched, five more of the things followed the first, crouching low to the ground as they ran through the bushes. They were moving as a unit, using cover intelligently, slipping out of view behind the trees ahead. He put a finger to his helmet, trying to get through to the sergeant.
“What the fuck are you still doing out there, Private?”
“We got infantry moving in!” Evan said, ignoring the question. “They’re using the tanks as cover!”
“Roger that. Hang tight. I’ll get someone to you as soon as possible. Just keep your fucking head down, kid. We’re getting pounded over here.”
Evan braced his rifle against his shoulder, peering through the optics, but he couldn’t see any of the strange Drones. They were staying hidden, probably preparing to move in on the convoy. Once they got close enough to the vehicles, the defenders would be overrun.
His eyes were drawn by sudden movement, Evan lurching back as the belly of the upended tank that he was hiding behind split open. A shiny, blue mass was ejected from the fleshy orifice, accompanied by a torrent of clear fluid. It was a Bug, tall and spindly, its long limbs tangled. Long, sinewy ropes that resembled umbilical cords joined it to its vehicle, connected to sockets in the exposed flesh that ran down its spine. It was a Pilot, the creature lifting itself to its knees unsteadily on its four arms.
Evan let slip a surprised yell that he was happy nobody else could hear, cutting it in half with a reflexive burst of XMR fire. It split at the waist, the tungsten slugs tearing through it, the dismembered torso falling back to the forest floor. It wasn’t dead yet, so he put another burst through its back for good measure, his heart pounding like a drum as he watched it go limp. There was a knife in its hand – the thing was almost dead, but it had been ready to skewer him.
“Fuck!” he growled, lowering his barrel.
He’d just given himself away. They’d be coming for him now.
Before he could even consider running for the convoy, a hail of small arms fire came his way, bolts of plasma splashing off the thick armor of the dead tank. He ducked down behind it, poking his rifle out of cover, using the scope to see where the hell he was being hit from. Another squad of half a dozen Drones was moving on his position, two of them laying down suppressive fire as the rest advanced through the dense undergrowth, their weapons at the ready. Fuck, they were behaving like a squad of Marines, showing far more intelligence than any Bug should have.
He let off a couple of random bursts, the slugs sending splinters flying as they tore into the trees nearby, forcing the things to duck and weave. Still, they kept coming, their eight eyes focused in his direction. As they neared, one of them reached for an object on its waist, tossing it towards him. It bounced off the hull of the tank, then rolled to a stop on the ground beside him. His heart froze as he realized that it was a grenade, a fleshy, organic blob the size of a softball. It would have killed him instantly if it had been an explosive, but instead, it began to spew a mustard-yellow gas into the air. It quickly formed an obscuring cloud, Evan fortunately protected by his helmet’s rebreather, a chemical warning symbol flashing on his HUD. The bastards were trying to smoke him out.
They would flank him soon, probably coming around both sides of the disabled vehicle to catch him out. These Bugs were smart, and that’s what he would have done in their situation. He primed one of his own grenades, then tossed it blindly over the hull of the tank. He waited for the explosion, then leaned his rifle around the side of the fallen vehicle again, spraying until he was out of ammo. Cursing to himself, he dropped the empty mag, slamming a fresh one into the well with practiced speed.
One of the things strode through the swirling gas ahead of him, so close that he could see the light reflecting off the lenses in its eight, spider-like eyes. It was raising some kind of handgun that was joined to its wrist by a segmented cable, but he was ready for it, a burst from his XMR lifting it off its feet. Its spiky, camouflage shell was no match for the railgun, viscera and pieces of shattered chitin spraying out behind it.
Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention, and he turned his head to the left, seeing that another of the Drones had scaled the carapace of the tank. Before he could swing the barrel of his rifle towards it, it leapt down, landing on top of him. Its weight was enough to knock him to the forest floor, the thing driving a long, chitin blade into his chest piece. It glanced off his ceramic armor, the Drone opening its four mandibles in a soundless battle cry, grappling with its three remaining arms as it raised the weapon again. It was strong – far stronger than he was, two more of the insect’s squadmates arriving to support it.
He was going to die here…
A sudden crack rang out, and the Drone that was preparing to skewer him was thrown back, the broken fragments of its helmet sailing through the air. Another round hit its chest as it reared up, two more sending it crashing to the ground, its green blood splattering Evan’s visor.
The two remaining Drones turned on the attacker, but neither of them managed to get off a shot. The first was cut down by a hail of automatic gunfire, its lifeless body slumping back against the hull of the tank. As the second staggered under another barrage of slugs, someone stepped over Evan, orange carapace shining in the sunlight that filtered through the canopy above. It was one of the Jarilans, an XMR held in her upper pair of arms, its coils glowing red as she emptied its magazine.
Another Drone came around the left side of the ruined vehicle, and she drew her handgun from its holster on her hip with a lower arm, popping the thing in the chest without breaking stride. Two more Jarilans followed behind her, one of them bringing down the sixth Drone as it leaned out to fire at them.
Evan was hauled to his feet, one of the Jarilans leading him away with her hand on his shoulder as the other two covered their retreat.
“J-Jade?” he stammered, seeing the IFF tag floating above her helmet.
“Sarge sent us to fetch you,” she said, pushing him down lower as a slug whizzed over their heads. “You’re harder to kill than you look, squishy boy.”
They ran through the trees, Jade leading them towards their IFV, the four of them taking cover behind the defensive wall. It was a segmented plate of ablative heat tiles that could swing out from the hull of the Puma to provide protection to dismounted troops. His squad was holed up there, popping up to fire intermittent bursts over the barrier, Hernandez giving him a welcoming pat on the shoulder. The sergeant was kneeling nearby with his hand to his helmet. He was in the middle of a heated conversation, his voice filtering through his speakers.
“Orbital strike? Are you fucking crazy? You call in a railgun barrage from the carrier on our position and we’re gonna get blasted along with the roaches. They’re right on top of us! I need CAS support right fucking now! Get the Penguins down here before we all end up as Bug chow!”
“Sitrep?” Jade asked, the sergeant glancing up at her.
“Every company in the region is getting hit,” he replied. “Fucking Bugs launched a massive, coordinated counterattack. I’ve called in air support, but fuck knows if they’ll be able to spare the birds.”
“What’s the plan, Sarge?” another of the Marines asked. “What do we do?”
“We hold this fucking position,” he growled, slapping a fresh magazine into his XMR. “You know the drill. Don’t let the bastards close on us.”
“Those Drones are acting weird,” Evan added, the sergeant turning his opaque visor in his direction. “They’re fighting as squads, using cover.”
Another explosion rocked them, everyone ducking as burning debris rained down from the sky, pieces of shattered armor bouncing off the roof of the IFV. Evan turned to the right, watching a plume of black smoke rise from the burning husk of one of the Kodiaks. He couldn’t even estimate how many of their vehicles were still operational.
“Heads up!” Hernandez warned, pointing into the trees ahead. “More of ‘em!”
Evan rose to brace his rifle against the lip of the wall, watching as two or three squads of Drones came running through the undergrowth. They were keeping low, using the trees as cover, popping out from behind the trunks to lay down suppressive fire. Evan was forced back down as a trio of shots zipped over his head, impacting the hull of the IFV behind him, leaving dark smears. It wasn’t just plasma, either. The Marine beside him took a hit to the helmet, something hard bouncing off it, snapping his head back. He fell to the ground, but his companions helped him up, the Marine quickly recovering. Evan glanced down at the projectile as it rolled to a stop beside his knee. It looked like a dart, some kind of organic bullet with a pointed tip made from sharp chitin.
“Tank coming up behind them!” another of the Marines warned, Evan turning his eyes back to the treeline. He could see one of the crab-like constructs marching forward, its turret swiveling in their direction. The IFV fired above his head, engaging the formation with grenades, the explosions scattering the troops. As it began to pour thirty-millimeter slugs into the forest, Evan rose up to join it, his rifle kicking into his shoulder as he fired on the enemy.
The Marine to his right was suddenly thrown back as something impacted his visor with tremendous force, shattering it into fragments. There was a secondary explosion after a brief delay, like a firecracker had gone off inside his helmet, splattering the wall in front of him with gore. He fell like his legs had been kicked out from under him, blood seeping through the broken faceplate.
“Sniper!” someone shouted, Evan cursing as he ducked behind the barrier again. Whatever the hell had hit him, it wasn’t plasma. Some kind of explosive round, maybe?
“Where the hell did that come from?” Hernandez asked, taking advantage of the lull to reload his rifle.
“I didn’t see shit!” Evan replied.
“Doesn’t matter!” the sergeant shouted, his finger moving to the touch panel on his helmet once again. “Gunner, saturate the forest with everything you have!” he demanded, the electric motors in the IFV’s blister whirring as it swiveled into position. “I want it to look like the surface of the goddamned moon!”
The MGL began to fire, bursts of shrapnel and bright flames shredding the foliage wherever they landed, some of the smaller trees starting to topple over under the assault. It just kept firing, churning up the dirt, throwing great clods of it high into the air. Evan glimpsed the tattered, airborne corpse of a Drone as it cartwheeled away, lifted off the ground by the blasts.
There was so much fire being exchanged, Evan’s helmet dampening the noise to a low rumble, but the vibrations still traveled up through his legs. He could feel the shockwaves as the Kodiaks fired their guns, the earthshaking impact of the grenades, his own XMR kicking into his shoulder as he fired it in full-auto. He had never been in a gunfight like this before. There was something different about this, something that tied his guts into a knot.
A Marine to his left was knocked on his ass as something slammed into his shoulder. His rifle fell from his hands as he clutched the wound, the projectile having slipped through the breaks in his armor and penetrated his pressure suit. His yell of alarm was abruptly cut off as the projectile exploded, blowing a hole in him almost large enough to sever his arm. He fell back to the asphalt, blood loss and shock quickly robbing him of consciousness.
“Get him inside the IFV!” the sergeant yelled, one of the Marines dragging him away by the carabiner on his chest rig to leave a smear of blood on the road. “What the fuck is hitting us?”
“We got a big one comin’ in!” Hernandez warned, his voice wavering as he gestured over the wall. Evan raised his rifle over the lip, peering through the feed from the scope, watching one of the Bug tanks march towards them. It pushed aside the trees with its thick, armored legs, weathering the incoming fire from the IFV. It fired its turret at the vehicle to the left of theirs, Evan knocked onto his side by the resulting blast, his hands covering his helmet reflexively as pieces of its warped hull rained down on him.
Hernandez helped him to his feet, thrusting his rifle back into his hands. Momentarily disoriented, Evan took a brief moment to get his bearings, time seeming to flow by in slow motion. The remaining Marines were firing over the wall, the Jarilans joining them, the IFV pouring fire over their heads. To his left, dark smoke billowed, the burning wreckage of the neighboring Puma cooking. There was smoke all the way down the line in both directions, dozens of vehicles reduced to flaming wrecks, bodies scattered everywhere. Every vehicle that was still operational was firing – tank shells cutting through the forest, grenades felling trees, missiles streaking overhead. Still, the insects advanced, squads of Drones slowly gaining ground as they used their vehicles as cover.
The Bug tank that was approaching their position took a hit to its right flank, collapsing onto the ground as its legs gave out, an exit wound from a Kodiak’s main gun splattering guts and twisted metal across the forest floor. The Drones that had been advancing behind it broke from cover, the lenses of their eight-eyed helmets glinting in the sunlight, their weapons raised.
Evan came to his senses, joining the firing line, his slugs dismembering one of them where it stood. Another fell as they advanced, but it was too late now – they were only a stone’s throw away.
A camouflaged Drone leapt over the wall, knocking a Marine to the ground, plunging a long blade made from chitin into the gap between his helmet and his chest piece. The man’s cry morphed into a wet gurgle as the four-armed alien turned its many eyes on Evan, raising some kind of resin sidearm to his visor.
Hernandez clocked the thing with the butt of his rifle, knocking it against the wall, its helmeted head bouncing off the hard surface. It quickly tried to climb to its feet, but the Marine planted a boot on its chest, unloading his rifle into its face. The tungsten slugs chewed through it, sparking against the barrier, the alien sagging into a twitching heap as what was left of its head sloughed to the ground.
The rest of its squad followed, one of them firing over the wall as another three Drones rounded it, a barrage of plasma bolts forcing the defenders to scatter. The Jarilans reacted faster than the humans could, their XMRs configured as submachineguns, ideal for encounters at close range. Evan caught glimpses of them firing, Jade cutting one of the assailants in half with a burst from her SMG. One of her comrades drew a pair of combat knives from her belt, meeting the next Drone with a flurry of blades. The pair danced around one another like boxers in a ring, steel meeting chitin, the insects moving so quickly that their limbs were a blur.
Another of the Kerguelan soldiers fired over the wall, catching him square in the chest, Evan stumbling backwards. He collided with the hull of the IFV, firing from the hip as another round impacted beside his helmet, a trio of shots punching holes in the insect’s carapace. It slumped over the chest-high barrier, green ichor streaming down the armored panels. Evan checked himself briefly, finding that his armor had done its job, dissipating the heat. His chest rig had melted through, but it was still hanging off his shoulders, its straps intact.
The brutal, close-quarters brawl was coming to a close, Evan watching the sergeant execute an injured Bug with his sidearm. The Jarilan had won her knife fight, but she was injured, one of her friends helping her to the ramp of the IFV as she clutched the punctures in her shell.
Evan felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, but the battle was far from over. As he shoved the dead Bug off the wall so that he could see over it, he spotted more Drones and tanks scuttling through the trees, some of them flanked by Warriors. Like those that he had encountered on the hull of the Spratley, these were twelve-foot, biomechanical battle suits layered with thick armor plating. They sported the same forest camo as their smaller counterparts, their slatted visors glowing an eerie green as they lumbered between the trees. These variants were bipedal, and their upper arms were laden with heavy weapons, what looked like plasma cannons built into their crab-like claws.
“Warriors!” he yelled, the sergeant directing the IFV to fire on them. Vehicle-mounted weapons were their only hope against those things, as even a dozen Marines firing XMRs at one might not reliably bring it down.
The thirty-mill tore into the nearest Warrior, the hulking monstrosity raising a clawed arm to protect itself, the slugs creating splashes of orange fluid where they impacted it. It weathered the fire, skidding to a stop in the dead leaves, raising its other arm. Its limb was a convoluted mess of segmented tubing and exposed metal, flesh and chitin growing in and around it, the green glow of plasma emanating from canisters that jutted from its bicep. The thing fired off a bolt of superheated gas the size of a basketball, Evan feeling its intense heat wash over him as it hit the IFV behind him. It melted through the hull, the molten metal sagging inward just beneath the turret, the weapon falling silent as the machinery that powered it was turned to glowing slag.
“We need to get the fuck outta here!” one of the Marines shouted, panic getting the better of him. Hernandez clocked him on the side of the helmet with a gloved fist, hard enough to make Evan wince.
“Get your shit together!” he growled. “We’re surrounded. Ain’t no goin’ anywhere unless we kill these fuckers before they kill us!”
The sound of an engine rose above the cacophony of battle, Evan turning his eyes skyward to see a familiar silhouette breaking through the clouds. It was a Penguin gunship, so named for its resemblance to the animal. It had a bulbous nose, its hull tapering into a thin tail, a pair of stubby wings helping keep it stable during atmospheric flight. As it descended, hatches on its belly opened up to reveal racks of missiles, an enormous chaingun descending from beneath its nose. A second gunship followed it in, the craft lining up for a CAS run.
“Danger extremely fucking close!” the sergeant warned, the Marines throwing themselves to the ground.
The gunships opened up, missiles streaking towards the ground on plumes of white smoke, erupting into billowing explosions that shook the trees. They carpeted the forest to either side of the convoy in fire, dark smoke rising above the canopy, waves of heat washing over Evan even as he took refuge behind the wall. The loud whir of their cannons echoed across the forest, spewing streams of thirty-millimeter rounds at the tanks below, the shells creating showers of dust and bright sparks wherever they impacted. Evan glanced over the barrier to see one of the nearby tanks collapsing into a heap, covered in bleeding craters, the two Penguins banking overhead as they came around for another run. The approaching troops were in disarray now, scattering across the pocked, cratered ground as burning foliage rained down on them. One of the Warriors had been caught by the cannon fire, the hulking creature writhing on its back, its thick shell perforated like Swiss cheese.
In the distance, the treetops erupted into flames again, a swooping Penguin leaving a burning trail in its wake. The other Marines were cheering now, pumping their fists as they watched the craft pull up, smoke still trailing from its nose cannon. The sound took a few moments to reach them, thudding explosions and the buzzsaw report of the cannon carrying over the battlefield.
“Keep them back!” the sergeant yelled, starting to fire at the Drones. Their charge had stalled, but they quickly took cover behind trees and disabled vehicles, the gunfight resuming. Evan fired his rifle over the wall, the arrival of the gunships filling his belly with fresh fire. He cut down a Drone that had been caught out in the open, taking off one of its legs. It flopped to the muddy ground, then rolled over onto its side, still trying to aim its weapon at him. He put it down with another burst to the chest, the thing lying limp. They could still win this – they could still wrest back victory from the jaws of death.
Another CAS run lit up the forest beyond, the glow of ordnance bleeding through the trees, Evan glimpsing a burst of green fire as one of the Bug tanks exploded.
Something suddenly shot up from the canopy, arcing towards one of the gunships, rising on a jet of emerald flame. The craft banked away, firing off a stream of bright flares that slowly fell over the autumn forest. The missile veered off, exploding in a spreading ball of plasma, but several more rose from the canopy behind it. As much as the Penguin dodged and weaved, it was not a maneuverable craft, even less so in atmosphere. One of the projectiles caught up with it, erupting near its tail, Evan watching in silent horror as the aircraft began to plummet to the ground. It broke apart as it fell, drawing a trail of dark smoke across the sky, like a black smear had been painted on the glowing auroras above. It vanished into the trees, another explosion rising above them.
“The fuckers have AA!” Hernandez yelled, glancing back at the sergeant.
Evan could see it through the trees ahead, another eight-legged spider tank, this one sporting massive missile tubes on its back instead of a plasma turret. They swiveled to track the next gunship, a sensor array covered in clusters of shiny, organic eyes and insect-like antennae locking onto it. The thing looked like a CIWS turret if it had been made of flesh and chitin, the left side playing host to the living radar array, while the right housed the cluster of launchers. As he watched, a long, green cylinder launched from one of the fleshy tubes. It went straight up into the air, hanging there for a moment before its booster ignited, sending it shooting towards the clouds. It resembled the plasma missiles carried by their fighters, the optics package made up of more eyes and feelers. More joined it, three of the things racing towards the remaining Penguin.
He turned his head to track the projectiles, watching two of them veer off to chase flares, the third impacting the gunship as it tried to climb away. It exploded in mid-air, raining burning wreckage, Evan’s heart sinking along with it.
The aliens were rallying now, their squads reforming, their tanks turning their guns on the convoy. Warriors lumbered through the trees, readying their weapons, backlit by the raging fires. Sensing their despair, the sergeant stepped forward, taking position behind the IFV’s wall.
“The Bugs don’t surrender!” he yelled, his visor popping open as he turned to glare at his men. “They don’t take prisoners, and neither do we! Make ‘em pay for every inch!”
The remaining Marines joined him at the wall, Evan standing shoulder to shoulder with Hernandez and one of the Jarilans. They opened up on the advancing Drones, splinters flying where their slugs bit into the tree trunks, sparking off the carapaces of the already felled tanks. Swarms of the insectoid soldiers braved the gunfire, their vehicles marching on, peppering the defenders with gas and shrapnel from their launchers. Another explosion rocked the convoy, Evan turning to see one of the Kodiaks burning, half a dozen holes melted through its hull.
“Told you, man,” Hernandez panted as he paused to reload. “It’s fuckin’ karma. The Valbaran pussy was too good.”
“We’re not dead yet,” Evan replied, forcing another Drone into cover with a burst of gunfire.
“I’ve killed more roaches in the last fifteen minutes than I have in my entire career,” Hernandez laughed, rising to fire over the barrier again. “Gonna make sure I take a hundred of these fuckers with me!”
Evan joined him, firing until his magazine was empty and his coils were red-hot, his HUD displaying a low ammo warning. As he reached for a fresh mag, he saw a tank lumber out of the treeline, the rails of its main gun pointing in his direction. He saw a flash of green light streak over his head, impacting the IFV behind him, then his world went dark.